November 6th, 1954:Poet Austin Clarke reviewed the sixth volume of Seán O'Casey's memoirs and, not surprisingly, given what O'Casey had to say about Irish writers, including himself, was not impressed. – JOE JOYCE
IN FIVE successive volumes, Mr O’Casey has written the story of his early struggles and spectacular rise to fame. Modestly writing in the third person, he has told us, directly and indirectly, much about Seán O’Casey, and much that we do not want to know about him.
With the publication of this sixth book, Mr O’Casey brings his enormous “biography” to an unhappy end. He has borrowed his poetic title from the first line of Tennyson’s well-known last lyric, “Crossing the Bar”, but there is no serenity or peace in these pages. Vigorous and unbowed despite his years, Mr O’Casey remains a mighty literary assailant, a ferocious fighter – from a safe distance.
Clotted, perhaps, with the rich cream of Devonshire, where he has lived for many years, and exhilarated by the cider of that county, he holds up to scorn the Irish poets who dare to live in our reactionary little republic and describes them all as Artful Dodgers. Any attempt by our resident writers to maintain an interest in books in this land of grim literary censorship, of frightened ex-gunmen, "spivs" and well-placed Ultramontanists arouses the indignation of Mr O'Casey: "The laddo in the tweeds, stranger, is Ireland's literary copper cockoo. No one knows just how he landed among the poets and writers. He just suddenly appeared. He perches in a clock-case office in The Irish Times, one of Ireland's National Dailies. Every Saturday as the clock strikes the hour of a dark rosaleen dawn, the portcullis shoots up, and me bould cuckoo steps out to give his private views about writers, poetry and prose, without conception, without respect of persons."
From his knoll in comfortable Devon, the last of our Great Exiles and the first of the Free Irish denounces us all to his wide audiences in England and America. But is Mr O'Casey really as courageous as he would have us believe? The late George Orwell attacked him in the Observer: "Considering the story of Anglo-Irish relations, it isn't surprising that there should be Irishmen whose lifework is abusing England: what does call for remark is that they should be able to look for support to the English people, and in some cases should even, like Mr O'Casey himself, prefer to live in the country which is the object of their hatred."
This appears to have alarmed Mr O’Casey, and he protests the loyalty of his relatives to their King and Country: “An uncle had fought and was wounded at Balaclava, a brother had fought in the Boer War, another in the first World War, a nephew in a submarine, a son of his had served in the Royal Artillery, and another was serving in the Artillery now. Wasn’t this the record of as good a giver as what was given by this yelling Orwell?”
All this – and more – from the author of The Star Turns Red!
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